Consume You It Will
by TheDoctor36
Summary: Three pieces of Star Wars villain-themed flash-fiction centering on Boba Fett, Barriss Offee, and Darth Vader. Each chapter focuses on an important moment in the lives of our villains and perhaps gives us a peek into their complicated decisions and backstories. Rated T for (minimal) violence, mostly because I live in fear of FanFiction admins.
1. Boba Fett

**Consume You It Will**

 _Disclaimer:_ I do not own the rights to _Star Wars_ or any related titles, characters, plots, settings, etc. These rights belong to George Lucas, Lucasfilms, the Walt Disney Company, and various publishers and distributors. I own only the original elements of this story, the writing and publishing of which earn me no money.

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Chapter One: Boba Fett

Jigu scowled, staring out over the open market with distaste. It had been a slow day, and now that the blistering suns had risen above the horizon, few would venture out to buy or sell any goods. It looked to be a less-than profitable day for his burlap-shaded stall in the galaxy's least reputable market, especially since business had dropped off so sharply after the fall of the Empire. Silently, Jigu cursed his luck. He had finally left Rattatak, but only a few Standard weeks before the Rebels had won their war. The following year had been far more difficult than he had expected...

A figure stopped in front of Jigu's booth, silhouetted against the glare of the suns. Jigu glanced up, curious about his potential first customer, but only noted that it was humanoid and male before his attention was drawn to the male's actions. Upending the sack he had been carrying, the stranger spilled a set of well-worn Mandalorian armor across Jigu's table.

As a relatively new arrival from Rattatak, Jigu was less than well-versed in the ways of the galaxy, but even he could recognize that infamously-chipped color scheme. "Wha-"

"How much?" the male asked, cutting off Jigu's question before it could fully form.

Jigu blinked all three sets of eyelids nervously. If this was indeed the notorious bounty hunter, he likely would not tolerate the usual questions, but Jigu had to try. "Where did you get it?"

"Why does it matter?" the stranger asked, making Jigu flinch at the lash of his voice.

"How you came by the goods will determine how much I can offer," Jigu explained as firmly as he was able.

The male was silent for a long moment, staring down at Jigu with dispassionate brown eyes. "I got it off a dead bounty hunter. He was thrown into Jabba the Hutt's Sarlaac pit." Jigu arched a brow and the male shrugged. "The Sarlaac didn't want the armor."

"I can give you a fair price for it," Jigu trailed consideringly, "but only if the armor is still functional."

The stranger snorted. "I doubt anything could make this armor non-functional." He reached down, tapping the clavicle guard with a knuckle. "It's Mandalorian, makers of the finest armor in the galaxy."

"Are you him?" Jigu blurted before he could hold his question back. "Are you Bo-"

A blaster directed at his nose from scant millimeters away cut off the rest of Jigu's question. "Boba Fett is dead," the male growled. "Never speak that name again."

"Yes- Yes, sir. Never again," Jigu agreed, bobbing his head rapidly as his wide eyes fixed on the barrel of the blaster. After a long moment, it was re-holstered at the male's side. This, more than anything else, told Jigu the male's true identity. The blaster was an EE-3 carbine rifle, the very one Boba Fett was known to carry. Odds were good that this male was the infamous bounty hunter himself, and would kill Jigu for the slightest provocation.

Jigu blurted out a price for the armor, one that was far above fair and into bankruptcy territory for his stall. The male stared him down for a long moment, eyes hard, but gave a short nod. As Jigu counted out the currency - realizing with a sinking feeling that this was likely the end of his business - the male seemed to become abruptly conversational.

"You are from Rattatak?"

Jigu paused in counting at the question, then nodded as he returned to the task. "Yes, I am."

"Lots of fights there. Who is your best fighter?"

With effort, Jigu kept surprise from his face, but took a moment in answering. "His name was Tsiger. He was one of the best gladiators, survived the longest. He was known for being particularly brutal in the pits."

"He's dead?"

"Yes, he died many years ago. He's little more than a legend now. If a fighter is particularly bloodthirsty, he is said to have been possessed by the spirit of Tsiger." Unbidden, memories of Jigu's childhood - one near-obsessed with the legend of Tsiger - rose and he was forced to hold back a smile. It became far less of an effort when he handed over the stack of currency to the male. "Here, payment for your... goods."

The male accepted the credits, tucking the sum into a hidden pocket in his clothing. Without another word of acknowledgement, he turned and strode away. Jigu wiped the orange sweat from his skin, gathered the armor, and tucked it carefully away. He would wait for a busier day before he attempted to sell it. Perhaps he would even earn enough credits to allow for a return to Rattatak.

Unfortunately for Jigu, the range of a EE-3 carbine rifle was impressive, and the strange male was nowhere in sight when the Rattataki dropped with a single hole through his forehead. The keepers of the neighboring stalls glanced over curiously at the sound of his body toppling onto the dry, sun-baked ground, but they waited only moments before raiding his stock for anything that could be sold. Jigu of Rattatak's body remained where it was, to decompose and be reclaimed by the planet without interference.

* * *

The male once known as Boba Fett moved to his (stolen) ship as quickly as he could without attracting attention. He would prefer to get off-planet before the body of the Rattataki male was discovered. Of course, in such a lawless place, it was doubtful anyone would take notice of yet another death, but he had taken such care to cover his tracks. It would be a pity to be forced to remove such a large threat to his secretive existence.

With the money earned from selling Boba Fett's armor, the male could begin a new life. He would be a bounty hunter - there was little else he knew how to do - but it would prove more of a challenge. Boba Fett had begun his career with an inherited set of armor and a ship, not to mention a hefty donation from Aurra Sing. He had nothing similar to begin his new career. He was starting once more with nothing.

The male smiled, the expression nothing more than the cold curve of one side of his mouth. He did have one thing: a name.

With that, Tsiger took off in search of a new list of bounties and targets. He would make this new name famous, perhaps even more so than the gladiator who had been its original owner. It wasn't in his nature to be anything less than the best, and he would rise to the top once more.

Count on it.

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Author's Note \- Title taken, of course, from the well-known Yoda quote, "Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny; consume you, it will." For those who don't know, Boba Fett does survive the Sarlaac pit (in the non-Disney canon, at least). I've always thought that he would have used his new lack of infamy to his advantage and this is my idea on how. I realize there are some inconsistencies both in Rattataki biology and the formation of Boba Fett's bounty hunting career, but just consider this a really lame AU.

Secondary disclaimer: there will be two more chapters in this collection of stories, but I do believe that this is the best one. In any case, thank you for reading! Please drop a review if you have any questions, comments, or concerns. Have a wonderful day and I'll see you in a week or so!


	2. Barriss Offee

**Consume You It Will**

 _Disclaimer:_ I do not own the rights to _Star Wars_ or any related titles, characters, plots, settings, etc. These rights belong to George Lucas, Lucasfilm, Disney, and various publishers and distributors. I own only the original elements of this story, the writing and publishing of which earn me no money.

 _Optional Background Information:_ This story takes place more in the _Clone Wars_ universe, focusing on padawan (and General Army of the Republic Commander) Barriss Offee along with Rex, a clone captain in the GAR serving under General Anakin Skywalker. This particular piece takes place directly after Season 2 Episode 6, _Weapons Factory_ , in which Ahsoka (padawan to Anakin Skywalker) and Barriss destroy a droid factory with great risk to their own lives. I would recommend watching the episode because it's awesome, but that short summary should be enough information to understand this installment.

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Chapter Two: Barriss Offee

 _Thwack!_

Clone Captain Rex shook his head, attempting to pull his attention from the unwelcome noise.

 _Thwack!_

The captain gritted his teeth. It seemed it was his luck today that the small gym aboard the _Resolute_ would already be in use.

 _Thwack!_

Even before he rounded the corner, Rex had affirmed to himself several times over that he would _not_ correct the form of whoever was using the punching bag. Even if they were more likely to hurt their own body than that of any opponent if such a noise was produced with every strike.

 _Thwack! Thwack! Thwa-Thwack!_

"Soldier!" he barked, entering the gymnasium and fixing the hanging bags with a firm glare - one which turned abruptly to a look of regret. "My apologies, Commander Offee. I did not expect to find you here."

The green-skinned Mirialan inclined her head briefly at him but made no other answer. It was a departure from her usual polite demeanor and Rex wondered vaguely if he should be concerned. Commander Offee rarely reacted with violence or even action, preferring to meditate and seek answers in the Force like a true Jedi. She and Commander Tano had been through an ordeal only a handful of hours before, but it seemed rather out of character for her to opt for the bags rather than her preferred exercise of stretches, leaps, and saber practice.

Of course, Barriss Offee was not his Commander, nor was she a member of the 501st. She was virtually nothing to him… and yet a stab of concern overtook him as he spotted a series of cuts and bruises tracing up every inch of the scant skin revealed by her long robes. The Padawan had lost her gray hood during what was apparently an impromptu workout session, and Rex would have sworn he could see dirt and dried blood matted in her black hair.

"Commander, are you injured?" he asked softly, attempting to avoid offending her.

"I am quite well, Captain, though I would prefer privacy." The reprimand in her voice was clear and Rex moved across the room to begin his own exercises.

Barriss's punches increased in speed nearly as quickly as they decreased in accuracy. She connected wildly with all surfaces of the swinging bag, and Rex could see the shaking in her limbs even over such a great distance. Oddly enough, she never made a sound throughout the apparent breakdown. At last, the commander slid gracefully to the floor, burying her green face against slender forearms.

Rex considered retrieving General Unduli to care for her struggling Padawan, but quickly discarded the notion. If Commander Offee hadn't sought out her Master from the beginning, it was unlikely that she would want the older Mirialan involved. In any case, the female breaking down in the _Resolute_ 's gym didn't look much like a commander. She was never loud or brash like Commander Tano, but Barriss Offee had her own merits, a quiet sense of strength and capability that inspired confidence in General Unduli's troops. This huddled form, swathed in dirty black robes, looked more like what she was under everything: an uncertain youngling. Rex couldn't ignore that kind of pain.

Carefully creating enough noise for her to hear him moving, Rex walked across the room and sat near the young Jedi. There was space between them, but he could feel the heat being thrown from her body even through the multiple layers of stifling clothing. Offee was definitely unwell.

"I may not understand the particulars, Commander, but I am willing to listen."

She sat unmoving for so long that Rex nearly stood to leave, but finally, Offee murmured, "She was going to leave me there."

Rex sighed internally. He had wondered how the Padawan had held herself so emotionless after the collapse of the Geonosian factory. Even Commander Tano had struggled with the aftermath of that particular skirmish, and General Skywalker had been determined to recover his Padawan at all costs. General Unduli's cold acceptance of the fates of the two females, doomed to suffocate under piles of dirt and rock, had been an unwelcome shock to all who witnessed the exchange between the generals. Doubting the concern of clones would vastly improve the situation, Rex cast about his mind for another source of comfort.

"She thought you were dead, Commander."

Offee lifted her head slightly, enough for him to see her sad eyes peering at him from over her tattooed nose. "No, she didn't. That is the terrible thing about being a Jedi. She could feel my life force - as well as that of Ahsoka - and she watched as it began to fade. Still she did nothing."

"There was no way to be certain of rescuing you both-"

"And yet I would believe with all of my being that Master Skywalker is the only reason she even bothered to try." Offee snorted mirthlessly. "I have served and learned from Master Unduli for nearly two full years and if it had been left to her, my body would be rotting under a pile of factory rubble."

"But it isn't. You aren't." Rex's voice may have sounded a bit more firm than the situation warranted, but he was accustomed to cutting short any litany of doubts from either of the Jedi he normally worked beside. He softened his tone and affirmed, "You're here, alive. That's what matters."

She shook her head, face still firmly against her arms. "But only because Skywalker cares for his Padawan. He cares for her in a way that my Master will never care for me."

Rex scrubbed a hand over his close-cropped hair. He was well and truly out of his depth - a dangerous place to be, considering the female he was speaking to was both a superior officer and a Jedi. Choosing his words carefully, Rex said, "Caring in that way is something the Jedi aren't supposed to do. The General often finds himself at odds with the Council for the way he cares for his Padawan and his men. It isn't the Jedi way."

Offee's voice became, if possible, even lower-pitched as she replied, "Perhaps I'm not meant to be a Jedi at all."

Oh, _kriff_. Now he had really done it; taken a two-year padawan and killed her desire to be a Jedi. "Commander Offee…" She didn't respond and he took a chance, doing what often worked with Ahsoka. " _Barriss_." The Mirialan glanced up at him, blue eyes searching his face. "I'm no Jedi. I can only give you the opinions of a clone, but I don't think caring like this has to do with being a Jedi. I think it has to do with what kind of Jedi you want to be. General Unduli may be a little cooler than you like, but you are only training with her until you undergo your trials. It isn't forever, and nothing says that you will become a Jedi exactly like her."

The young female didn't lift her head, but she turned it so that the side of her face rested on her forearms. "But you said it yourself: Skywalker finds himself at odds with the Council for his behavior. I can't succeed as a Jedi and constantly be brought before the Council to be reprimanded."

"Would you consider General Kenobi to be a successful Jedi?" the captain asked.

Barriss frowned. "Of course. Master Kenobi is a Jedi Master, he sits on the Council, and he is widely respected."

Rex shrugged. "I can't say anything for certain, Commander, but I would never believe General Kenobi would have left General Skywalker buried under there if there was even a chance Skywalker could survive."

The girl stared ahead of herself for a long moment. "And I'll never have that kind of bond with my Master."

"But you can be that kind of master for another padawan," Rex hoped with every cloned cell of his body that his message was reaching the female, but she only furrowed her dark brows, blue eyes stormy.

"How can I ever hope to be a better master if I don't know how a better master would speak or act or teach? I cannot pass along what I never received."

Karking hell. Rex was obviously making things far worse. He stood, drawing the Padawan's blue gaze. "Let me go get General Unduli for you. It would be better for you to talk things over with another Jedi..."

Barriss stood as well. "There is no need for that, Captain," she said, voice crisp. Apparently, Commander Offee had made a return. "You have made a great number of things very clear to me. I would appreciate if you didn't speak of this conversation with anyone else."

That didn't sound healthy. "Commander-"

"I will make it an order if necessary, Captain," she informed, the threat delivered with no change in her tone.

"Sir," Rex assented with a sharp salute.

"As you were, Captain," Commander Offee ordered, sweeping from the room without further conversation.

Left as utterly alone as he had wished he could be earlier that hour, Rex couldn't help but feel as though something had been lost - and worse, as though something inescapable had been put into motion. He determinedly performed his exercises, but his concentration was elsewhere. Rex's gaze intermittently flicked to the grey head covering still left lying on the floor and his worried thoughts turned often to the distressed Commander, a youngling so determined to hide her pain that she refused to ask for assistance and forbade him from seeking it on her behalf.

* * *

Author's Note \- If anyone is a dedicated _Clone Wars_ fan, you may have noticed that - though this would take place after the first time Captain Rex and Barriss Offee (presumably) meet - he seems to be rather familiar with her character. You can chalk it up to Generals Skywalker and Unduli meeting in the past, a long voyage in space, or lazy writing, your choice! Also, why are Unduli and Skywalker's forces traveling on the same ships? I don't know, this is just the plot bunny that wouldn't go away.

Thank you for reading (especially if you're someone who never had much interest in _Star Wars: The Clone Wars;_ you're absolutely amazing!) and please take a moment to leave a review if you have criticism, good or bad. Special shout-out to my one previous reviewer, Kondoru, who pointed out that all villains are merely misunderstood heroes. This whole story is my attempt at showing these 'villians' in their more heroic moments, as it happens.

In any case, thanks again for reading and have a great day!


	3. Darth Vader

**Consume You It Will**

 _Disclaimer:_ I do not own the rights to _Star Wars_ or any related titles, plots, characters, settings, etc. These rights belong to George Lucas, Lucasfilms, The Walt Disney Company, and their various publishers and distributors. I own only the original elements of this story, the writing and publishing of which earn me no money.

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Chapter Three: Darth Vader

The clones were talking again. He took notice, but didn't necessarily want to put a stop to it. After all, the teamwork and close bond of the 501st had made them legendary even in the days when they were misguidedly fighting for the Republic. Several of the men currently serving as Imperial Stormtroopers had started their existence as clone troopers for the Republic, but he found he had nothing to say to them anymore. The only reason he had zeroed in on the forming bond was that it shed too much light on his own exclusion.

As General Skywalker, he had always been on good terms with his men, learning names, spotting differences, telling jokes and stories with the best of them. Now, there was a noticeable distance between the men and himself. Not only did the suit sustaining his life respond far too slowly - the sound requiring time to filter through and even longer for his response to be pushed back through the vents - but he had already gained a reputation for violence and impatience. The clones were scared of him.

This did not bother Vader, but Anakin Skywalker was weak. He wanted - no, he _needed_ \- the respect of his men, respect born of brotherhood rather than fear.

Shaking both Anakin's stomach-clenching need and Vader's fist-tightening disgust from his head, he strode purposefully toward the clones socializing in the hallway. One of the standard helmets moved only millimeters to the right as its owner saw his billowing black cape and stood at attention, the man to his left turning to do the same.

The final trooper, however, had his back to the approaching Lord Vader and seemed to be paying no attention to the frantic motions of his brothers. " _Scatch!_ " the first trooper hissed in that too-familiar voice.

'Scatch' whipped around, uncovered face shifting to panic at a rate that was nearly comical. Anakin wanted nothing more than to ask the trooper how he had earned his name, but Vader was in favor of punishment - perhaps death.

"Troopers…" he said, still uncertain of what he would say next. All three men saluted.

"You should be ashamed at appearing before Lord Vader in such a state," the emperor reprimanded, whipping around a far corner. The troopers could not possibly be more at attention than they currently were, but he could feel through the Force how desperately all three clones wished their spines could straighten into impossible angles to show as much respect as possible.

Not that he believed a single one of the men held any respect for Vader or Palpatine. Their Force signatures reeked of fear, followed closely by the desire to avoid punishment. There was no hint of trust or admiration or any number of emotions that contributed to respect of an authority figure. Inspiring such feelings in his men had once been something Anakin Skywalker had done with ease - though even he had not proved quite as adept as his Jedi Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He winced, grateful for the first time for the cover of his helmet. Thoughts of Master Kenobi brought about a myriad of emotions tumbling from all sides, including the part of himself that still clung to the ways of the Jedi and attempted to avoid all unnecessary emotion. Vader was furious, rage burning as hot as the lava that had permanently scarred his flesh, eating away so thoroughly that even months spent in a bacta tank had proven incapable of curing him completely.

The small, ever-shrinking piece of Anakin Skywalker still remaining in the blackened husk of his old body missed Kenobi dearly. Anakin had regarded the older Jedi as a mentor, an elder brother, and a friend. His loss had been nearly as painful as that of Padme Amidala, though somewhat lessened by the knowledge that Kenobi still lived.

That same knowledge brought such a cold-edged fury from Vader that his cape fluttered in the chill emanating from his body.

"Dismissed," the emperor bit out, allowing the troopers to scurry away from the unblinking stare of Vader's dark-glass viewports.

"Apologies, Lord Vader," Emperor Palpatine said with a mocking little bow. "I have yet to train the clones that they are to treat you with the utmost respect at all times. None of that informality that so plagued your men during the Clone Wars. I assure you, such an incident will not take place again."

"No apology is required, Emperor," Vader dismissed in his customary slow rumble. Anakin still shrank at the voice while Vader gloried in its depth and ability to frighten others. Still, the Emperor sought to remove one of his few sources of comfort. "I am no stranger to the ways of soldiers."

"Still..." the Emperor hissed, "Such behavior is not to be tolerated. I have long believed that we would be wise to begin recruiting from human sources. Clones grow far too expensive, even with the strength of the Empire applied to receiving the best possible rate from the Kaminoans. Besides, the genes of Jango Fett have been stretched too far. The vast majority of clones created today are… subpar."

"As you command, Emperor," Vader assented. "I shall begin making inquiries into a reliable source immediately."

"No," Emperor Palpatine returned sharply. "You will focus on your skills and training. The Empire has grown powerful enough to end most threats before their very inception, but there will always be some who seek to oppose our rule. You must be strong enough to end them with finality. We cannot risk even the idea that we can be challenged. Go meditate, strengthen yourself with the Force, and I will think on methods upon which to instruct you."

And that was decided. There would be no discussion, no arguments. The great Lord Vader, confined to his chambers as if he were an unruly padawan. It was something of a welcome change to have all pieces of himself in agreement, though they bristled at the treatment. He was one of the most powerful men in the galaxy and yet… yet, the emperor was arguably the most powerful.

With a strange and unwelcome sense of clarity, both Vader and Skywalker realized that this existence was untenable and yet appeared to be without end. He would be forever confined to this limbo; forever within reach and under the command of the Emperor, yet denied any other contact.

He began to meditate, ignoring the pull of his heavily-scarred skin and the ever-present pain in the seared seams joining his abused muscles with the robotic limbs that allowed him to move. As he mused over the recent realizations in the depths of his mind, he experienced the strangest narrowing sensation. Vader and Skywalker, pulled by their agreement in the vehement rejection of the farce his life had become, joined into one being; brought neither joy nor desolation in this existence, they turned to the one thing that could bring a moment of relief: Pure, cold rage.

Rage at Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Rage at the thoroughly-dismantled Jedi Council.

Rage at the entirety of the ineffectual Republic.

Rage at his own lack of function.

Rage at the loss of the man he had been only a short time ago.

Rage at the galaxy as a whole.

The galaxy had taken everything from him and he had no real desire to aid it in any way. No, the man he had become, the fearsome Darth Vader, would rather take his revenge on the galaxy, but he would not allow others to live - to die - the way Anakin Skywalker had. Instead, the Sith Lord Darth Vader would preside over the galaxy, and in doing so, instruct its inhabitants about the benefits of an effective ruler. If he had to do so with Emperor Palpatine by his side, so be it.

None would have to suffer what he had, not again. He would create the life that had been stolen from him by the Republic and the Jedi. This would be his legacy, the gift he would leave for his galaxy.

He would bring order.

He would bring prosperity.

He would bring peace.

He was the Chosen One.

It was his destiny.

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Author's Note \- Happy Halloween to those who celebrate! I know this chapter is coming extremely late, but I've been editing up to the last minute. I still am not proud of this chapter, but I'm admitting defeat and simply posting it as-is. I know the repeated statements at the end come off as choppy, but that was (mostly) intentional. I wanted to show the reluctant transition of Anakin Skywalker to Darth Vader and I was influenced by a recent rewatching of _The Clone Wars_. Anakin has such a strong connection with his clone troops. It's hard to picture that he wouldn't struggle during his early days as Vader. And the whole "Two, there are. No more, no less," rule of the Sith sounds like an actual living hell if the other Sith is someone as controlling as Palpatine.

Anyway, you made it! This completes the little series of three little drabbles that make up this story. At this point, I have no plans to expand it any further, but later chapters may come along if I happen to be inspired by other villians. I also may post a better version of this chapter if I ever manage to write one. Thank you for reading! Reviews are actual treasures, so if you have a moment and could leave a few words (even if you didn't like it and tell me so) I would appreciate it so deeply! If you're more comfortable sending a PM, that is appreciated as well.

Thank you again for reading and I hope you all have a lovely day!


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